


Still and quiet

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Monday Fix-Its [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accident, Canon Divergence - The Sign of Three, Fix-It, Hospitalization, Minor Memory Loss, Monday Fix-It, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 19:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16750396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: John wakes up in a hospital and Harry is there to help him.Monday Fix-its is a series of one-shots (or two-parters) that take a piece of cannon BBC Sherlock and fix it so that JohnLock would happen. It won't necessarily happen IN the story, but it is the aim or each of these stories. HEA for our boys is the priority.





	Still and quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Second Monday fix-it.  
> Please keep in mind that ALL of them have eventual HEA and Johnlock as the aim, even if it isn't mentioned in the text.
> 
> Monday Fix-its is a series of one-shots (or two-parters) that take a piece of cannon BBC Sherlock and fix it so that JohnLock would happen. It won't necessarily happen IN the story, but it is the aim or each of these stories. HEA for our boys is the priority.

A quiet murmur.

A cool hand on his forehead.

“Shh. Calm down.”

“I… Wha…”

“We are all fine. Everything is fine.”

Someone in the room with him.

Wrong. Wrong bed, wrong room, wrong person.

“Sher…”

“Sherlock is just outside, I told him to get some air.”

“Harry?” he croaked.

His sister sounded unusually subdued for her.

“Hi, Johnny.”

“But…” he tried moving his head, but there was something holding him. “What happened?”

“You slipped, you silly boy. You slipped on the stairs in the hotel and you gave us all such a fright.”

“Oh” he licked his lips, dry as a parchment.

“Oh, yes. Ice chips. Here” he felt a cold pressure on the dried-out skin and accepted the piece greedily. Blessed coolness spread through his mouth.

“What time is it?” he managed to put the sentence together finally. “That… it’s dark? How long…?”

“It’s two in the morning” Harry moved so that he could see her. “You’ve been unconscious for several hours, Johnny. I have to call the nurse in, tell her you’re awake again.”

“ _Again_?”

She grimaced.

“You’ve been in and out for a while now. Mostly asking for Sherlock and worried about someone… Not sure what it was. This is the sixth time you woke up but the first time you’ve managed to do more than trash around and be scared.”

A nurse entered and checked his vitals, his pupil reactions and pain level (five, he could live with it).

Harry’s wild curls were back in his field of view.

“Why the neck brace?” he asked worriedly. “What…” he frowned. “What hotel?”

Steps down the corridor drew Harry’s attention away from him.

“Oh, here they are. The hotel where you were supposed to have your wedding, silly. I was in the parking lot so when they called the ambulance and it turned out  _I_  was your medical contact, and seriously, what  _were_  you thinking? They brought me with you, so…”

“So here you are, talking your brother’s ear off instead of calling us as you’ve promised,” Mycroft’s voice grated on his nerves, but - oh, there they were, indeed.

“What…?” he had to squeeze his eyes shut to gain control of his brain again. “Where are we? Where is…” he grasped for the right name.

“Mary is gone,” was the first thing Sherlock said since entering the room. “We’ve tried looking for her, but Janine said she had disappeared around the time of your unfortunate slip. Someone…” Sherlock sounded as if he was choking on these words. “Someone shouted that you’ve fallen down the stairs and that you were not going to survive that. She, as Janine described it, jumped up as if someone had poked her and just ran off. Janine thought she was going to the hospital, but when she called me, asking about Mary, well, we could only tell her we hadn’t seen the lost bride.”

He blinked.

He wished, dearly, he could see Sherlock’s face right now.

“What…”

“We will keep looking, of course, doctor Watson,” Mycroft’s voice should have been put on Wikipedia as the definition of “oily”. “However, with what we’ve unearthed in her room, I don’t think…”

“What?” he tried to turn his head.

“John,” Sherlock lowered himself to the seat next to the bed gingerly. “I’m afraid you aren’t going to like this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [my tumblr](https://srebrnafh.tumblr.com/).  
> [My writing blog.](https://fanfik.wordpress.com/)  
> [My handmade blog.](https://srebrna.wordpress.com/)
> 
> Edit (April 2019):  
> I am taking a writing course and one of the tasks is to ask my readers to describe my writing style in 3 adjectives. I'd be grateful if you could provide this kind of feedback :)  
> (if you provided it already somewhere else - THANK YOU! :))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] Still and quiet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487236) by [SrebrnaFH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH)




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